Chapter Text
88 was a cool number. It was even. It was symmetrical. Even the shape could tickle the brain nicely. The eights looked like a pair of infinity signs laid sideways.
But right now, all Siffrin can think is how much he hates that.
Infinity signs were certainly a fitting way of describing his current predicament. They were legitimately just loops. The most concise description of how he felt. It was sickening, it was upsetting, and he would have screamed and yelled to express that if he hadn’t done it so many times before. He was sapped of energy to the point where he just wanted to sink into the ground (but not in this field, not this blinding field) and sleep the loop away.
Funnily enough, this wasn’t his 88th loop. He’d passed that already, but the number had refused to leave him alone ever since.
Wow, a number? Leaving you alone? Numbers don’t have feelings, idiot.
“Siffrin!”
Enter Mira. Get over yourself and say your lines.
…
He really didn’t want to.
Even so, he plasters on a smile with faux grogginess, trying not to be obvious that he was forcing it. “Good morning, Mira.”
Mirabelle leans over his supine form, beaming back. “Good morning! Well, more like, good afternoon, I guess.”
“I’m awake now.” He sits up and stretches, wanting to skip ahead without being excessively rude. “So, what’s up?”
At his probing, she proceeded to talk about facing the King before mentioning her idea for the sleepover at the clock tower. Having heard this all before, Siffrin doesn’t pay much mind until he has to actually reply, and as he usually does, he gives the idea an enthusiastic pass.
Mirabelle reminds him of where the rest of the party is (even though at this point he could walk through all of Dormont while wearing two eyepatches and still be able to identify every person in the area), hands him the reminder note, and exits. Siffrin pockets the note and stands in the sun for a long moment, allowing his mind the luxury of zoning out- if only to ponder his next move.
The monotony was going to rip apart whatever sanity he had left. He needed to do something; change or try anything.
But I swear I’ve tried everything already. Except…
No. No, you can’t bother them. This is your problem. Stop being selfish. Just…
…just tell someone. You’ve been lying long enough.
And what does it matter anyways? Maybe you’ll learn something. Maybe you’ll feel better. Maybe it’ll be the secret to ending the loop.
He chuckles soullessly.
As if.
But breaking the script…I’ve tried it, but never for an entire loop. It’s worth a shot.
He stops walking. When he’d started, he wasn’t sure, but it had been guided by pure instinct. He was standing in front of the shop now.
I guess I really CAN navigate Dormont in my sleep.
Siffrin stares at the door, his hand brushing over the handle lightly. Odile would be in here, browsing the shelves. She was smart- too smart, and very perceptive. There was one timeline in which she’d figured out he was looping; Siffrin had rewinded, of course, and afterwards started to be far more mindful of his behavior so she wouldn’t reach that conclusion again.
But it wouldn’t be so bad if she did it now…maybe that rewind was a waste? Maybe he could’ve broken out with her help?
There was no saying if that would have been the case.
He applies his weight to the handle until it clicks, gently opening the door. The thought of initiating this conversation threatened to raise bile in the back of his throat, but he didn’t deserve to have pride anymore. He needed to at least try.
And try and try and try and try.
If none of this worked, then at least, at the end of eternity, he could say he tried everything.
Siffrin enters. With his usual mask equipped, he approaches Odile, and goes through the motions of their conversation. His lines were recited dutifully. She is none the wiser.
He thinks about telling her right then and there. But his mouth dries.
“Is that all?” She asks.
Siffrin surreptitiously tilts his head downwards, tucking his chin into the folds of cloak so she wouldn’t notice his nervous attempts to reorient his speaking ability. When he recovers, he does not say, “I need your help because I’ve been living the same two days for forever.”
Instead, he goes back on script and smiles. “Can I help you with anything?”
He helped Odile find that familytale. The only difference was that he did not leave immediately afterwards. It was now or never, since after this, he wasn’t going to have much of a chance to ask, away from prying eyes.
“Hey,” he says, a little more softly than he would have liked. “Before I leave you to it…”
She looks up from the book, her initial skepticism at his lingering becoming tinged with curious concern as she scans his expression. “What is it?”
Inwardly cursing himself for letting his mask falter, Siffrin clears his throat as if his tone had been nothing more than a passing obstacle. Even so, it’s difficult for him to improvise without giving away his true feelings. “I…want to talk to you about something else, in private, but not now. I was hoping we could talk at the sleepover?”
The gears are turning in Odile’s mind, he can tell. She’s trying to figure out what could possibly be the matter, but there are no definite puzzle pieces for her to assemble. “…sure. Okay. Are…you okay?”
Not really, no, is his first thought. But he’s learned not to say the first thing that comes to mind.
“I’m okay,” he (lies) assures her with a stageworthy chortle, as if he was still the person he was in what was collectively the weeks or months prior, though it was no more than a few hours for everyone else. “Don’t worry, I’ll tell you when the time comes. Just focus on your research for now.” The end part of his sentence holds a teasing jab.
“Right…” Odile’s curiosity is gnawing away at her already, but she holds back. “I will, then.”
Siffrin exits with his mind in turmoil as it starts to anticipate what the conversation will be like. He still hasn’t fully convinced himself that this is the right thing to do, but at this point, what is there to lose by doing so? He pushes aside any internal accusations of selfish neediness and heads back to the plaza.
He talked with Mirabelle about those “bonding papers” so she could be more accepting of herself. Taught Bonnie how to fight. Stargazed with Isabeau. Each conversation was one he’d memorized to perfection, from the words to their inflections and expressions. And again, he played his part. He did not skip ahead to the next day, or to any point in the House.
Despite being sick of the repeats, there was still a fluttering feeling that never went away whenever he saw them smile.
Come nightfall, the group met at the clock tower. They ate the food Bonnie had prepared and lavished praise for its quality. Siffrin had a faint impression of what it was supposed to taste like, and he knew he’d immensely enjoyed it, many cycles ago. Now it was just ash on his tongue. He pretended to enjoy it, and did so convincingly- as always- and sat through the ensuing dialogue- as always.
The main thing that keeps him going is feeling Odile’s gaze flick back to him occasionally, and even though she is saying the same lines as usual, her mannerisms deviate from the norm.
When it is finally, finally, finally over (he hopes sincerely, but since when did hope get him anywhere?), they slip away from the party to talk downstairs. Siffrin knows they can’t avoid the intrigued gazes of their (family) party members, but Mirabelle seems to conclude this has to do with the “secret quest” he and Odile went on earlier, and has enough respect to hold Isabeau and Bonnie back from intruding on the private conversation.
Now safely in seclusion, standing in the living room only a few steps apart from one another, Odile turns to him with her characteristic businesslike attitude. “So. You’ve kept me in suspense all evening. What did you want to talk about?”
Siffrin begins to feel the pressure of the situation, and the chaos of feelings pent-up over every loop is boiling. He takes a deep breath, in and out, and his carefree mask is replaced by anxious anticipation. He’s so stupid- he’d orchestrated the setup for this conversation, but he has zero idea where to even start.
“Would…would you…” He tugs his cloak over his nose, fighting to maintain his composure as his emotions war within him. His singular eye closes tightly, leaving his vision dark. “Do you trust me? If- if I said something crazy, or that sounded unbelievable, would you believe me?”
He doesn’t need to see her to know she’s gone back into analysis mode. He’s laid down an implication that she’s using to form a clearer picture of this conversation’s purpose. The silence, as short as it is, feels agonizing.
“Siffrin,” she says, and her quiet volume- gentle but urgent enough to be commanding- startles him enough so that he opens his eye. She is staring intently, and she’s trying to appear calm despite worry and fear(?) being evident in her expression. “Did something happen?”
He swallows thickly, ignoring the sootlike sensation that is tainting his mouth. “Sort of. Yes.”
“What is it? You can give it to me straight.”
You heard her. Just SAY IT.
“I’m- this isn’t the first- argh.” He bites his lip, frustrated with himself. “Have you ever…thought about time loops?”
Odile’s eyes widen minutely, and she regards him with shocked speechlessness. The silence stretches again as his heart pounds violently.
“You…” She trails off.
Siffrin has two seconds to contemplate rewinding before she speaks up:
“Are you trying to say you’re in a time loop, Siffrin?”
He can’t breathe. In lieu of words, he nods weakly.
There’s a moment where Odile looks like she’s just been struck by lightning, before she smooths it over into a semblance of composure. She slowly sits on the couch and gestures for him to do the same. He does, after hesitating for a few throbbing heartbeats.
“How does it work?” She asks levelly.
“So, simply put, it…spans today and tomorrow. Starts with me waking up in the field, south of Dormont. We do all of this-” He gestures haphazardly to the clock tower around them. “-before going to the House. And then we go through it. Normally, if we don’t get stuck or die in any traps, we fight the King. And if we beat the King, we talk to the Head Housemaiden. She realizes I’m in a loop, and then I wake up back in the field.”
Odile takes this information better than he would’ve expected. She mulls it over, nodding slowly, but her concern only seems to grow. “That’s a lot of if’s.”
He cringes. “It…took a few tries to figure out how to beat the king. The…main way the time loop restarts is when I talk to the Head Housemaiden. I swear I’ve tried almost everything, but it never works, and I end up back in that stupid field.”
“But we have beaten the King.”
“Yeah, we’ve beaten him more than we’ve been killed by him at this point.”
She seems reassured by the fact that victory is, in fact, nearly a guarantee thanks to his looping- but then remembers that winning against the King is not the issue at hand here. “Then…how many times have you looped?”
Uh oh.
Siffrin considers lying. What would be a reasonable number of loops?
“Don’t lie to me,” she cuts into his thoughts briskly. “It’s written all over your face.”
Crab. Okay. You’ve been lying for long enough.
Never once had he lost count of the number. He can’t bring himself to maintain eye contact, so he gazes at the couch cushions instead. “…this is the 162nd loop.”
This time, Odile does not take this information better than he would’ve expected. He can hear her sharp intake of breath and, out of the corner of his eye, sees that she’s clenched her fists at her sides. He steals a glance at her face and immediately wishes he hadn’t.
She’s just staring at him. She looks horrified.
When he turns his head away, she snaps out of her daze. “Siffrin, is this the first time you’ve ever told me about this?”
“…yes. I haven’t told anyone else, ever. I didn’t…want to drag the others into this. This was a last resort.” He reluctantly turns back to her, feeling the exhaustion crash down on him. Hot tears are in danger of spilling out of his remaining eye.
“You’re tired,” she recognizes. “I’m…I’m sorry, Siffrin. It…must be really difficult. I can’t even imagine.”
“You did figure it out once,” he admits. “But when you confronted me about it, I panicked and rewinded so you wouldn’t confront me again.”
“I figured it out?” She echoes, caught between surprise and pride.
“Yeah. I was being a bit too obvious. But that’s why you’re the person I went to- I- I thought you’d believe me the most easily, and…” The words are bitter, worse than ash. “…and help me.”
“Siffrin,” she replies incredulously. “Of course I’ll help you out of this. We’d all help you out of this- Isabeau, Mirabelle, and Boniface.” She hesitates. “Do you…want to tell them?”
I don’t.
Siffrin says nothing.
“Logically, we should.” Odile points out, noticing his silence. “We’re allies. If even defeating the King wasn’t enough to break you out of the loops, then we should start brainstorming together, right? And…you look tired. Maybe leave the thinking to us this time?”
He groans, pulling his hat over his face. Odile and her stupid, completely valid logic.
If she’d been stuck looping, I bet she would’ve found a way out before the 100th loop. Crab, I bet it would’ve been before the 88th! I need to stop letting myself be so emotional and just suck it up and be smarter for once!
“-frin?”
“S-sorry, sorry, you’re right.” He laments, “You’re right. I don’t want to tell them, but…”
“But?” She prompts carefully.
“But I should.”
“You should.”
“Fine.” He tips his hat back up reluctantly. “I’ll tell them…”
“If it’s too difficult, I’ll do it for you.”
“You don’t need to do that.”
She arches an eyebrow. “To be frank, you look unstable and exhausted. If I feel like you’re having trouble, I’m stepping in.”
Normally this would have cut deep, but this time it feels sobering; reassuring, in a way. Siffrin nods. “Okay. Th-thank you, Odile.”
“No need to thank me. Now, come on.” She gets up, offering her hand. “I’m sure they’re all dying to know what our conversation was about.”
Siffrin notices the gesture and thinks back to all of the times she’d done something like this.
Sometimes, after the battles with the King where he’d chosen to lay on the ground to delay the finale, she’d forcefully haul him to his feet.
When noticing the Head Handmaiden’s strange behavior, and the sky was falling apart, she- like Isabeau- would start to make her way over to him with her hand outstretched.
(After collapsing when he used his dagger to restart a loop, if he was sloppy in his swing, if Bonnie wasn’t nearby, Odile would fall to her knees beside where Isabeau was holding him and take his limp fingers in one hand and use the other to cup his face as her expression was one of desperate, confused panic.)
Siffrin breathes and accepts her hand in a strong but trembling grip. “Okay…let’s do it.”